The last October Flash written on OD, 10-31-11 in Flash Friday

“The wolf boy he come down off the mountain, bound himself in iron —“
“Why grandpa?’
“Cause blood can’t magic through iron, no he come —“
“Why grandpa?”
“Cold iron is done, gray, already been magicked, ain’t nothing more can be done to it, now hush child and let me tell the tale.”
“Ok”
“Thanks.”
“Welcome.”
He looked patiently at the little one, giving her a taste of what interrupting would do, the kind of silence it made. Her middle brother punched her in the arm.
“Ow.”
“So, the wolf boy he come down off the mountain, bound himself in iron, put hides over his skin, calf skin, soft and sewn up like the valley people wore. Conjur woman told him not to, said ain’t nothing good’ll come of it, said mixing with humans is bad blood, that they can kill things for pleasure or out of anger, things they don’t even plan to eat, just let rot there for the birds and catamounts.”
The little one shifted her butt, opened her mouth for a why sound, but shut it again, scratched her arm.
“Conjur woman though were a hunnert and eighty and though she could make a tree fall a mile a way, could take the snow right out of the clouds and dump it where she please, could cook a running hare so it fall down dead as stew, she’d forgot about love and —“ he looked at the kids “Desire”
He lit his old clay pipe and puffed out some foul black smoke into the room. The kids shifted, the older boy straightening a leg, rubbing his knee, pulling it back in to sit injun by the fire.

“Wolf boy had seen her, your moma, picking baby’s breath up the side of the mountain, all lit up red and gold in the dying sun, and he tried following her down then and there but he turned at the valley floor. He never wanted something so much in his life, not the naked harvest moon full of blood and magick, not the yearling with the soft sweet flavor and strong pulse in their neck, not the black night with all the night songs and harmonies of earth and creation. And though the conjur woman told him not too he had asked her how to get to the valley without turning and she told him; better armed for foolishness than battling it naked she said.”
“That’s when they fell in love,” the little one said coyly, then slapped her grubby paw over her mouth and flinched from her brother.

“Well, it weren’t that simple. But yes, it’s when they fell in love, when he come down off the mountain to court her. He weren’t the first suitor come to her daddy to ask to court, but he were the first one not from the valley. Daddy shot him with a squirrel gun, and wolf boy all bound up in iron and calf skin, he just had to take the ball to the shoulder. Conjur woman knew this type a thing, what she didn’t know is your moma she had all the good of human in her, she nursed the wolf boy. Conjur woman never reckoned much on the good. And helping him back to health, she fell in love too. And helping him back to health she had to take off the iron and the calf skin and —“ again he looked around at the kids “ and, she, um knew him, bloody and all, and she knew him well.”
“They was under the dogwood down in the holler for three days,” the middle boy said. The little one punched him in the arm with her tiny little fist. He smiled.

“That’s right boy, and in three days he got back his strength, all of it, but she had took his iron and the moon crested the mountain top he couldn’t stop the change. All that human stuff, the wrath and lust and love and compassion just sloughed off him like a winter coat come April, and his muzzle was full of the hot iron scent of the daddys blood. “
“No, grandpa,” the little one squeeked, “I hate this part of the story. Can’t they just build a little shack down in the holler by the dogwood this time? Just a knowing and smiling and playing the fiddle?”
All the little eyes around the fire were wet and sparkly.
“Sure darling, sure. Now eat your rabbit, it ain’t getting any rawer.”